


Hair

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-18
Updated: 2007-02-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 03:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12402042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Hair. He believed that you could get an idea of a person’s personality by looking at it.





	Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

_Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, and I’m glad I don’t: I probably wouldn’t get as much pleasure from reading it if I did, though I would have a lot more cash.  To Kill A Mockingbird and Pride and Prejudice are excellent novels by Harper Lee and Jane Austen respectively._

_A/N: Okay, this is my first ever story to be posted, so I’m a little nervous.  I’d love to hear any comments, and constructive criticism is especially appreciated.  I think this can be interpreted as seen through many characters eyes, so just go with who you feel it fits._

He wished she wouldn’t do that with her hair.  Straighten it, that is.  It took away her uniqueness, her individuality.  She was just like the other boring, average girls then.  She blended in.

He had once heard her telling a friend a story about a muggle hairclother, or whatever it was they called those people, who had cut her hair in the Christmas holidays of second year.  The hair-whatsit had gushed the whole time about how gorgeous her hair was, how unlike anyone else’s it was, how it was the nicest she had ever cut – how she was surprised she hadn’t been offered a modelling job and how she wasn’t ever, under any circumstances, allowed to dye it.  She had laughed as she related the story, and said the girl was mad, and that she hated her hair.

That made him sad.

He loved its natural waves, the little ringlets that curled just behind her ears.  The way it fell, longer than most, down her back, the way it moved and floated as she walked.  It was so like her: different.  It reflected her.  It was innocent hair – that was the only way to put it – untainted and natural.

It wasn’t perfect – no, no-one could ever accuse it of being so, not even him.  There were fly aways and on wet days it went frizzy, even inside the castle’s walls.  But it was beautiful, despite its flaws.  Just like her.  

Then she had to go and spoil it, take away its brilliance.  True, it was still hers, and so it still shone with her beauty, but it lacked freedom.  The other girls complimented her on the change, said it looked great.  She had conformed to their ideals, and the fashionable cuts and styles they all wore their hair in.  He didn’t understand it; this had _damaged_ her, not made her better.  Taken away part of her enigma made her a little less of a goddess and a little more of a mortal.  She would always be special, but this had changed her for the worse. 

He believed that you could get an idea of a person’s personality by looking at their hair.  He liked to watch her doing her favourite thing, curled up in the corner of a sofa in the common room, engrossed in one of the many muggle books she had brought with her from home with her, her hair streaming off the arm of the chair.  One day she had left a book by accident and he had looked at it: _To Kill A Mockingbird_.  Another day it would be an old tome, titled _Pride and Prejudice_.   Surprising and unpredictable, but then, so was her hair.  Now, her hair was generic, and safe, and, what was most disturbing, just like everybody else’s.

That made him sad. 


End file.
